


Unnamed

by dedougal



Series: Corset Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:18:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared finally reaches a limit. Misha helps him cross it. Warning: implied threesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unnamed

The door was shut and there was no answer when he knocked. Jared frowned. He was sure Misha had said to come over after he was done with his meeting. Jared checked his watch, knocked again. He wondered about traipsing over the lawn to peek in at the window but decided trying the door was a possibly more adult form of creeping. It swung open.

Jared hesitated on the doorstep. For all that he was increasingly unsure of the boundaries of his… friendship? Relationship? Affair? with Misha, or indeed if there were actually any boundaries, wandering into the house uninvited seemed a terrible transgression. At best, it went against all the manners his momma had drilled into him.

“Misha? Hey? The door was open.” Jared called into the hallway. Making a decision, he closed the door behind him and walked into the house. He stood and listened at the foot of the stairs glancing into the living room. No sign of life. Then he heard a high-pitched giggle and a deeper moan. He pounded up the stairs, something ugly unfurling in his stomach.

Misha was lying back in bed, head tossed back, limbs gleaming, hair as wild and debauched as it always was with Jared. His wife was straddling him, leaning over him to pin him to the bed, to kiss him, to adjust the rhythm of her hips. Jared stood, jealous and possessive and guilty and turned on while Misha turned his head, eyes dark and black, pupils blown wide, to see him.

“Jared.” His name came out on a groan, a hiss of breath. Vicki looked over her shoulder.

Jared wasn’t sure if he should go. Vicki smiled at him, lazily, too easily. “Hey, Jared.” She circled her hips. Misha gasped. Jared blushed. He tried to turn, to stumble out of the room.

Then Misha spoke, more intently and hurriedly than before, ordering him, “Don’t go.”

Jared was frozen. He swallowed, feeling the tie and collar tight and hot around his neck. But he couldn’t disobey. Instead he brought his hand up to loosen his tie, pop the top buttons on his shirt. Misha watched approvingly as Vicki turned back to him, riding him harder than before, purposeful now. Her back arched, a stream of curses mixed with Misha’s name and moans spilled from her lips as she came. Breathing heavily, she rolled off Misha, leaving him wet and hard. Jared groaned under his breath.

Vicki brushed the sweat drenched bangs out of her eyes and looked at Jared, taking no notice of her nudity. “Are you wearing them?”

“Them?” Jared was momentarily confused.

Misha seemed to be regaining his power of thought, something that Jared was surprised to see. He was always so controlled around him, even when he was fucking. He smiled a weirdly sated smile at Jared, considering how unfulfilled his cock obviously was. He drawled out, “My mark of ownership.”

Jared tugged the neck of his shirt wider, exposing his collarbone and the string of pearls draped around the base of his neck. Misha grinned, happy, at him and Jared ducked his head. He was nearing thrilled at the implied praise.

Vicki lay back on the heaped disordered pillows and watched with sharp eyes are Misha climbed off the bed and pulled Jared’s head towards him to kiss him hard, almost bruising. He tasted of Vicki, sweet and sweat and female. Jared wondered when he’d become so accustomed to the taste of Misha that he could tell the difference. It made him hurt again, a spike of cold through his guts.

Misha slid the jacket off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then he lifted one of Jared’s arms and unbuttoned the cuff, placing a kiss on the inside of Jared’s wrist before he let it drop to his side again. He repeated the action with the opposite hand before carefully, studiously, concentrating on undoing the knot on Jared’s tie, pulling it through the collar to drop beside the jacket on the floor. Jared focused on the breath from Misha’s mouth, slow and even, as he unbuttoned the shirt, tugging it free from Jared’s pants rather than undoing his belt. He didn’t move, didn’t barely breathe for himself. Misha pushed the shirt off.

Jared stood where he was and let Misha look. He knew, of course he knew, that Vicki was watching closely and Jared knew he should be angry or upset or rueful but Misha made those feelings fly. The only thing that mattered was the approval in his eyes, the way he nodded as Jared straightened taller, forcing his muscles into sharper definition. Misha knelt before him, but not like Jared would kneel. It was an implied command and Jared knew what was being required again. He lifted one sharply polished shoe and let Misha tug it off before working the sock off too. Undressing seemed to take forever this way. There was none of the rapid, ecstatic fumbling that had marked his other sexual encounters. It wasn’t a strip tease either, because the stripper had the power there: when to strip, when to tease, what to leave on. This was systematic yet Jared knew it was some twisted form of love. This was Misha taking care of him.

Jared couldn’t help but stifle a sigh of relief, though, when Misha finally moved to his belt, pulling it through the loops and free more sharply than before. A wet, more open mouthed kiss was placed at just about his navel as Misha came forward to undo the suddenly too complicated hook and latch arrangement. Then Jared was free, pants off and boxers pulled down with them. He was aware, dimly, as if far off in the distance, of the heavy pull of his now erect cock but it was important. All that mattered was the way Misha was staring at him, as if he hadn’t seen him before. There was no mirror for Jared to focus on here. The only thing he could see was Misha’s eyes, feel the weight of his gaze.

Jared brought his fingertips up to stroke along the skin warmed pearls at his neck. He felt like his fingertips were as sensitive as the head of his cock, connected in some uncanny way. The heart-heavy silence, the type falls when everyone in the room is waiting, poised and unsure and yet entirely knowledgeable about where this is to go, was shattered by Vicki’s voice.

“We don’t keep secrets.” She rolled off the bed and came forward to wrap her arms around Misha’s waist and tuck herself into his side in a way that Jared never could – or maybe never would. “I always knew.”

Jared gulped. He was standing in front of his… lover? and his wife completely naked and completely vulnerable. And she was telling him she knew everything. She knew how he liked to be tied up, to be brought to the edge again and again until he was promising his entire life to just be allowed to come. She knew about the pearls that once had been hers and were now his. But Jared hadn’t stopped listening or thinking, despite the air of heavy anticipation and the pull of his arousal. Her voice had been calm, smooth, velvet, interested.

So Jared nodded to show he’d heard her but kept silent. It was best not to speak without permission.

“I wanted to play too. I asked his permission and he agreed to share you,” she continued, her eyes roaming over his body. “I don’t need your permission, isn’t that right?”

Jared nodded again. The warm feeling in his gut expanded. Misha had given permission. Misha had said this would make him happy.

Vicki’s eyes were running over his body. “I think it best if we keep this simple. You should fuck me while Misha fucks you. Okay?”

Jared was confused. This was more words than they normally used. He wasn’t accustomed to having so many questions thrown at him. There was a band around his chest. For the first time, he thought about leaving, about taking the necklace off, putting his clothes back on and stepping back into the shoes of Jared Padalecki, Sam on CW’s “Supernatural”, all round good guy with a serious candy addiction and two dogs. The person he wasn’t when he gave over power to Misha. He looked at him, willing him to understand, to get it.

“Vicki.” His voice held that edge of command that Jared understood almost implicitly. “Leave Jared to me.” Jared dropped his head in relief and the band eased.

Misha came close, again, running hands over Jared’s arms, along his back, smoothing his trembling. “I want you to fuck her, Jared. You’re going to let me use you to fuck her.” His voice was soft and warm and without a single inch of wiggle room. “But you only listen to me. I’m your master.”

The word made Jared smile. He was pretty far into whatever space in his head that was established in these times with Misha, but that sounded pretty silly. “Master?”

Misha looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. What else do you think I should be to you?”

Jared leaned forward, resting his head on Misha’s shoulder and letting his arms encircle his back again. He kept quiet. Misha was right. He didn’t know what Misha was to him and, even, sometimes, what he was doing here. But Misha’s hands were soft and Jared found himself sliding into acceptance and willingness and want again. “Yes”, he whispered into Misha’s skin.

Vicki had returned to the bed, lying back and watching the interaction. Jared went to her, kneeling between her spread legs and bent forward, holding himself ready. Misha ran his hand down Jared’s spine, letting his fingers traipse over each vertebrae before sliding between the curves of his ass and pressing down dry. Jared held himself ready.

“Kiss her,” Misha ordered and Jared obeyed.

While he was kissing, teeth and lips and tongue his entire focus, a memory slid into his mind. Misha had fastened clamps to his nipples, affixing the chain between them to a ring around his cock. Then he’d manoeuvred a hook – with a ball at the tip. Jared knew the intent wasn’t to harm – into his ass, unravelling a cord to tie to the string of pearls. If Jared had tried to lean back, to relieve the cold hard press in his ass, the clamps would pull, bite deeper. And if he leaned too far forward, the hook would go from being just enough to too much. Jared had to hold still, upright, balanced until he became accustomed to the sensations. Once that happened, he began to rock, back and forth, just slightly. The pull and push and pain and relief was intense, bringing him to the edge, just like Misha preferred him.

Misha had watched him all the time and smiled when he brought his hand down to snap the ring around Jared’s cock free.

The other thing that Jared remembered about it, the thing that made that incident stand out more than almost any other was that his arms were free at his side. When pushing his limits, Misha bound him, fastened his wrists together, to his side, to his legs, to the bedposts when inserting hoops into his back to pull together with black ribbon. Jared had been tied tight. Sure he had safewords and non-verbal gestures and cloths to drop. Jared wasn’t stupid. He still needed a get out clause. But he didn’t have the facility to stop, to fight back, to lift his hands and unclasp the necklace, undo the things Misha did to his body.

Jared needed his arms, his hands here, to support himself, to not crush Vicki underneath him. He was free to walk out, to tell Misha it was all too much. He pulled back from the kiss, turning his head to see Misha’s eyes, his expression. Misha was pleased. He leant forward to place his own mouth on Jared’s kissing him deeply while sliding a slick finger into his ass. Jared tilted his hips back.

“What should I do next, Master?” he asked.  



End file.
